


Everything That Matters

by br0wncoat



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0wncoat/pseuds/br0wncoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Joker is guilt-ridden and sarcastic, Shepard is oblivious, and there are gratuitous references to zombies. Set during ME2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar to anyone, it's because it was originally posted at FanFiction.net. It's finished; I'm just cleaning it up and moving it over here as I get the time.
> 
> Don't be alarmed that the first chapter follows the game so closely - that doesn't last long.

Shepard ground her teeth, her fists clenching, wishing like hell that the Illusive Man was really standing in front of her. The son of a bitch had known about the Collectors the entire time, and he had chosen to send her to Freedom's Progress blind. Had he also known that Tali would be there, despite his assurances that her old team was unreachable, that she would have to make do with the Cerberus crew? And now he was lecturing her, grating on her nerves with that smooth, condescending voice.

Shepard took several slow, deep breaths, reminding herself that fantasizing about smashing her pistol into the Illusive Man's perfect teeth wasn't going to help anything, no matter how satisfying the idea.

"Two things before you go," he continued, lazily flicking ash from his cigarette. "First, head to Omega and find Mordin Solus."

"I haven't even started, and you're telling me what to do?" Shepard snapped. She regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. If there was one thing Shepard had learned from her time working for the Council, it was that losing her cool would only prompt more of that smug superiority. She wondered if her unusually short temper was somehow a side effect of her rebirth, or if it was simply a particular talent the Illusive Man possessed for getting under her skin.

"I'm giving you direction," the Illusive Man replied calmly. "What you do with it is up to you. I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

"All right," Shepard said through clenched teeth. "What's the other thing?"

"I've found a pilot I think you might like. I hear he's one of the best. Someone you can trust."

Shepard's irritation ratcheted up a notch at the idea of yet another Cerberus flunky joining 'her' team. She started to turn, hearing slow, irregular footsteps behind her, and her breath caught in her throat at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

*****

Shepard dragged herself up from the floor, exhaling sharply as her body protested. The myriad aches and pains she could ignore, but she was fairly certain that her armor had actually melted to her skin in places, and with every movement came a searing pain and a sickening pulling sensation. She had watched as the last of the crew piled into an escape pod and ejected, and then something had exploded just in front of her. Fire was raging all along the corridor, and cables dangled from the ceiling, sparking, as the entire ship pitched and yawed. And that pain in the ass Joker was still in the cockpit.

Shepard stumbled toward the stairs, muttering every curse she'd learned in her years as a marine. If they made it out of this alive, she was going to kick Joker's ass. She could hear him over the comm., still radioing for help, as she finally reached the top of the stairs.

When the door opened, Shepard froze, momentarily unable to comprehend what she was seeing. She thought nothing had the power to frighten her anymore, but the sight of the gaping hole where the hull in the CIC had been was staggering. There was nothing there, nothing between her and the vastness of space, no sound but her own harsh breathing inside her helmet, no movement but the severed remnants of the bridge crew's chairs, floating eerily as gravity tried to re-assert itself.

She heard Joker's voice again and continued pushing forward, thankful for the reminder that someone else was still alive. His tone had changed. Instead of shouting for help, he was muttering, pleading with the ship. "Come on baby, hold together, hold together!"

When Shepard finally reached him, he was still wrestling with the controls. "Come on Joker," she said. "We have to get out of here."

"No!" he shouted. "I won't abandon the Normandy. I can still save her!"

"The Normandy's lost," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to look at her. "Going down with the ship won't change that."

He looked so defeated then, and for a moment Shepard was afraid he would refuse to come. Finally, hanging his head, Joker said, "Yeah, okay. Help me up."

She half-carried, half-dragged him to the last escape pod and had only just managed to dump him inside when there was another explosion. She was lifted off her feet, and with the last of her strength she slammed her fist onto the pod release button. She caught a flash of Joker's wide, shocked eyes, and as another blast hurled her away from the ship, she heard his voice screaming for her over the comm. "Commander? Shepard!"

*****

"Shepard?"

She looked up, realizing that while she'd been lost in her memories the Illusive Man had disappeared, and Joker was standing there, looking at her oddly. Everything about him was so familiar, from his hunched posture to his ridiculous beard, and she didn't think she'd ever been so pleased to see anyone in her life.

"Joker?" Shepard said, relieved that her voice, at least, seemed normal. "I can't believe it's you."

"Look who's talking," he retorted. "I saw you get spaced!"

Joker began to walk, gesturing for her to follow. She had to slow her natural gait to keep pace, tamping down the instinct to take point. It was odd, a counterpoint to how familiar everything else about him was - she didn't think she'd ever simply walked with him before. As he led her through the building, they spoke at length about his decision to join Cerberus, but one phrase stuck in her mind, making her chest ache with guilt.

"The Alliance took away everything that mattered to me." He had said it in such an offhand way, tossing the remark out between curses while navigating a flight of stairs. If she hadn't been watching him closely, afraid that he might lose his balance, she would have missed the shadow of pain that crossed his face, belying the casual tone of his voice.

Shepard thought about her time aboard the Normandy, how Williams had become almost like a sister to her, the long conversations with Garrus about C-Sec and his father, her fledgling romance with Kaidan. Hell, she'd even gotten to be friends with Wrex. But somehow she'd never taken the time to get past Joker's attitude, and had treated him as a lesser member of the crew. She promised herself, no matter what else happened on this screwed up mission, that she wouldn't make that mistake again.

"You really trust the Illusive Man?" Shepard asked.

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do," Joker answered, stopping in front of a large window. "But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly. And then there's this. They only told me last night."

He gestured at the glass, and as Shepard peered through, a gleaming ship drifted slowly into sight. When it came to rest in front of them, she turned to Joker, her mouth open in surprise, to see him grinning widely. It was larger, sleeker, and painted with the yellow logo of Cerberus, but it was still, unmistakably, the Normandy.

"It's good to be home, huh, Commander?"


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard had to admit, Cerberus knew how to build a ship. Most of the equipment was not only brand new, but top of the line, and it was definitely more spacious than the old Normandy. Her own quarters were almost obscenely large, and she was still trying to figure out what was up with the damned giant fish tank, but it beat the hell out of a bunk in the crew quarters. And the crew itself was surprising. If anything, she'd been expecting - well ... a ship full of Mirandas. But most of them could have been any of dozens of men and women she'd served with in the past; in fact, some of them were former Alliance.

She wondered what had brought them all to work for an organization like Cerberus; after all, it wasn't likely the rest of the crew had "They brought me back from the dead and I owe them" to fall back on as an excuse. It seemed that many of them really were interested in making a difference in the only way they could, like Engineer Donnelly, who had been all but forced out of the Alliance for defending her. With the Council and the Alliance ignoring the truth, what choice did any of them really have?

Still, she knew the things Cerberus had done, and she remembered standing on Edolus and swearing that she'd make whoever was responsible for the deaths of those marines pay. She'd barely had time to come to terms with the fact that she was even alive, but always lurking in her thoughts was the reminder that she owed it all to a group of xenophobic terrorists. There were just too many damn shades of grey here.

Quite apart from the moral quandaries, it was painful being here, on this almost - Normandy. Joker had said, 'It's good to be home,' but really, this was just an imitation. The old girl was dead and gone, scattered across a planet somewhere or drifting endlessly in space.

What really made a place home was the people, and they were all gone too, one way or another. She could stand in the CIC and close her eyes, pretending that Pressly was pacing restlessly with his ever-present datapad, giving orders in that gruff voice. That Tali would come rushing in, chattering about kinetic barriers or Javelin mounts. Or that Kaidan would walk by and smile at her, hoping no one noticed. Everywhere she turned the ghosts of her old life were lurking, just out of reach.

Shepard strolled into the medbay, hoping there actually was a doctor onboard and that wouldn't be another of her assignments, and froze. For a moment, she thought that all of her musing on ghosts had caused her to hallucinate, but then her delusion turned to her and smiled. "Commander Shepard. It's good to see you alive."

Shepard broke into a smile, noticing that the action felt foreign, as though the muscles had forgotten how. But then, it had been more than two years since she'd smiled last. Wasn't that a hell of a thing to try to get your mind around?

"Dr. Chakwas, I'm shocked. You're serving on a Cerberus vessel now?"

"I don't work for Cerberus," the doctor insisted. "I work for you. On a mission that may be crucial to the survival of the human race. I have faith that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you, Commander."

Shepard felt a small weight lift from her chest. After all of her own troubled musings about the morality of working with Cerberus, it was a profound relief to know that someone from her old life, someone whose opinion she valued, believed she was doing the right thing. She took a seat across from the doctor, determined to make the most of this moment with her old friend, this moment that felt like home, before heading back out to face the realities of her new life. "So, do you have everything you need?"

Having explored every other area of the ship, Shepard headed for the bridge to speak with Joker. It was ridiculous, really, but she had no idea how to talk to the man. Usually, she thought wryly, people who antagonized her as much as Joker did ended up staring down the barrel of her pistol.

She remembered their first conversation, his defensiveness about his illness, his proclamation that he was the best damn helmsman in the Alliance fleet. She'd gone back a few more times to try to talk to him, but in the end she'd always gotten frustrated by his unresponsiveness, and she'd walk away, his dismissive 'See ya' trailing after her. The other crew members would fall all over themselves saluting and calling her ma'am, and although that had grown tiring after a while, Joker's attitude had been at the other extreme. He sounded bored and indifferent, as though he couldn't be bothered to take a moment to speak with her.

Shepard nodded absently to the crewmen stationed at the glowing terminals lining the corridor, barely noticing their nervous chatter as she approached Joker's chair. Jesus, Marine, pull yourself together. You've faced down angry krogan, fought a rogue Spectre, outraced a nuke ...

Joker spun around suddenly, interrupting her internal pep talk. He was grinning, his arms waving in excitement. "Can you believe this, Commander? It's my baby, better than new. It fits me like a glove! And leather seats!"

Shepard had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Was it just the pleasure of having the Normandy back, or was he really that happy to be out from under the thumb of the Alliance? He'd made no apologies for joining Cerberus, and while she was bothered by that, there was a part of her that didn't blame him. From the sound of things, the rest of her crew had moved on with their lives, but the Alliance had taken away Joker's options.

As Shepard listened to Joker bitch about EDI, she took the opportunity to look around the cockpit. The shutters were open, and some trick of the atmosphere lit the sky, blues and purples streaking across an endless expanse of black space. It was hypnotizing, and it made her feel both very small and ridiculously glad to be alive.

Shepard noticed Joker looking at her curiously and offered him a small smile, the action already becoming more familiar. "It's beautiful," she said, shrugging. "Sometimes it's easy to forget how amazing it is that we're out here."

He simply looked at her for a moment, and she wished that she could tell what he was thinking. His face was shadowed by his cap, making it difficult to read his expression.

She started unconsciously shuffling her feet after several moments of his scrutiny, and finally decided to sit down, only to notice for the first time that there was only one chair. Really, there was an aquarium in her bedroom the size of the Presidium lake, but no room for a co-pilot's seat? She considered just plopping down on the floor, but finally ended up standing at a kind of awkward parade rest, aware that she must have looked somewhat crazy and feeling distinctly more uncomfortable than she had been.

Joker, for his part, was smiling slightly, for all the world as though he knew the thoughts that had just passed through her mind.

"Ever think about the old Normandy and the trouble we got up to?" Shepard asked.

"Yeah, those seem like the good old days now," Joker answered, "but come on, it was hell at the time. Geth, Saren, Sovereign." He paused for a moment, carefully shifting in his chair, then bitterly added, "And then we got dumped."

"Have you spoken to any of the old crew?" Shepard asked.

"Nah...we just sort of drifted apart. The Alliance didn't care. I don't think they liked all the non-humans in your crew." He looked at her with an odd intensity for a moment, considering his words. "We were your team, Commander. With the Normandy destroyed and you gone, there wasn't much keeping us together."

They lapsed into silence, Shepard wondering if it was crazy to feel guilty for being dead, Joker just sitting there, slumped and inscrutable as always. "Well," she said finally, "that's all for now. Let me know when we're approaching Omega."

She started to walk away, and Joker called after her, "See ya, Commander."

Shepard looked back and frowned, but he'd already turned back to the controls. He'd sounded, she thought, suspiciously cheerful.


	3. Chapter 3

Joker fidgeted in his seat, glaring at the clock. He was convinced that the thing must be broken. It had to have been several hours since he'd last looked at it, not 20 minutes, as the luminous red numbers insisted. He'd spent a while entertaining himself by playing with his chair, spinning from side to side, until EDI had scolded him about "undue wear on the equipment," or some bullshit, and he found he didn't have the inclination to argue, for once.

Normally he was all about being the solitary pilot, who neither wanted nor needed company, but he was growing agitated the longer the Commander and her team remained on Omega. He supposed he should be glad that he had yet to receive an urgent call informing him that she was about to blow up the station, but the lack of updates was starting to get to him. He knew Shepard could take care of herself, but there was something about watching a person die to save your ass and then having them come back to life that made a man feel a little protective.

Joker snorted at the thought. _Don't worry, Commander, if any bad guys come for you I'll hobble after them and take them down with the power of my sarcasm and extensive knowledge of drive cores_. Yeah, that'd work.

"Joker!" Shepard's voice barked, making him jump. "We're heading back to the Normandy, ETA about 5 minutes. We've got two new crew members, and I need you to alert Dr. Chakwas that one of them needs to be patched up."

"Uh, okay, Commander. On it."

Joker contacted the doctor, and then settled back to watch for the shore party's return. Sometimes it really paid to have a seat near the airlock.

First through the door was Jacob, half-dragging a bleeding salarian, closely followed by Miranda, whose overly perfect face was wrinkled into an expression of distaste. Joker had several snarky comments on the tip of his tongue, but he quickly closed his mouth when a heavily scarred and tattooed man stepped onto the ship, his one good eye pinning Joker with an appraising glare before he turned and followed the others. Joker was still staring after the man when he heard a familiar chuckle.

"The scientist and the mercenary," Shepard said. "One guess which one's which."

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment, and Joker took the opportunity to study her. She seemed exhausted, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep, propped up against the wall of the cockpit. She looked much the same as she had in the old days, except for the scars on her cheek, and she was a little thinner. The armor she wore was new, painted a matte black, and that, perhaps, was why it took Joker a minute to realize that it was absolutely covered in blood. Alarmed, he started to struggle out of his chair. "Jeez, Commander-"

She reacted with startling reflexes; seeming to understand his concern immediately, she gently pushed him back into his chair, saying "Relax, Joker. It's not mine. Mercs, mostly."

Joker was staring at the hand pressed against his chest, his mind suddenly filled with images of the last time Shepard had touched him. She'd risked her life coming back for him, convinced him in her calm, patient way that he had to leave, and he'd been an ungrateful bastard, bitching at her to be careful when she grabbed his arm a little too forcefully. Then she'd shoved him into an escape pod, and he'd felt something snap in his leg as he tumbled inside.

He'd been so wrapped up in his own injuries that he hadn't noticed at first that she wasn't right behind him. He'd expected her to sit down and start strapping in right up until she'd slapped the eject button. Then he screamed for her, but it was too late. For the next two years his dreams would be haunted by the sight of her being sucked out into space.

"Joker," she said, pulling him out of his reverie, "are you all right?"

"Fine, Commander," he said stiffly. "Just tired." He wanted to say something to her, but even if it had been the right time, he didn't know how. How many times had he wished that he could take back his last words, that he could thank her for saving him, that he could apologize for the fact that the great Commander Shepard had died so that he, smartass crippled pilot, could live? He wasn't exactly known for making dramatic emotional declarations, but that didn't seem like the kind of thing a person just blurted out.

"Yeah," Shepard said, sighing. "We've still got one more person to recruit on Omega, some turian called Archangel, but I think I need to sleep for about three days first. I'll see you later, Joker."

"See ya, Commander," he replied absently.

Joker gave up on the idea of sleep at some point in the ridiculously early morning. Apparently his little trip down memory lane had brought on the return of his nightmares. After waking in a cold sweat to the image of Shepard's frightened eyes, he had no desire to risk repeating the experience.

He made his way to the mess, thinking to round up some food so he didn't have to deal with EDI on an empty stomach. As he turned the corner from the elevator, he saw Shepard digging in a cabinet. Joker paused, watching her quick, efficient movements. He wondered why she was awake so early, and if she'd gotten any sleep at all. If his nightmares were bad, hers must be downright terrifying.

"You know, Joker," Shepard said, startling him, "when I get that feeling like someone's watching me, I start thinking that there's a sniper out there, and it makes me a little twitchy."

He chuckled, noticing with some relief that she wasn't armed. "How'd you know it was me?"

She shrugged and sat at the table, balancing a tray, a datapad, and a perilously full cup of coffee. "I could tell by your footsteps."

He watched in fascination, unable to decide if it was more impressive that she made it into a seat without spilling anything or that she recognized the sound of his walk. She pushed out a chair with her foot, gesturing for him to join her.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"Nah," he answered, wondering where all of his legendary wit had gone. There was tension between them, always had been, and he knew it was his fault. She'd been friendly with everyone on the old Normandy; hell, even the krogan had eventually been won over, but he'd always pushed her away. He'd made an ass of himself during their very first conversation, being so defensive, and after that, well … he'd told himself he didn't need a friend, but the truth was he just wasn't very good at it. So he'd continually pushed her buttons, amused that he could get a rise out of the famous Commander. By the time he'd decided that he was tired of the game it was too late, and she was clearly uncomfortable around him. But she'd saved him anyway. She'd come back for him, and she'd even been kind about it, and he was damned if he could understand _why_.

He opened his mouth to make some comment about the food or ask about the mission, anything just to break the silence. But then she stood with her empty tray and called goodbye over her shoulder, and he slumped onto the table, his face in his hands.

_Nice one, dumbass_.


	4. Chapter 4

Shepard barged into the medbay, holding a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy aloft and announcing, "I've got a present for you, Doc!"

Dr. Chakwas looked up from her terminal, and Shepard felt a rush of guilt as she realized how exhausted the doctor looked. Between the elation of discovering that Archangel was in fact her old friend Garrus, the terror of almost losing him, and the relief that he'd survived, Shepard was running on an adrenaline high. But it was what passed for the middle of the night here on the Normandy, and the doctor had just spent quite a few hours trying to put Garrus' face back together.

Dr. Chakwas brightened upon seeing what was in Shepard's hand, and she exclaimed, "You didn't! Thank you."

"I spotted it on Omega and remembered you talking about that bottle you lost on the old Normandy." Shepard shrugged as she handed the bottle over. "I was going to suggest we open it together, but maybe another time."

"Nonsense," the doctor said, already digging in her desk for something to open it with. "I've always regretted not opening that other bottle when I had the chance."

Shepard grinned. "I'll go get the glasses."

Three-quarters of a bottle later, Shepard was slumped in her chair, her feet propped up on a table, squinting at Dr. Chakwas. The doctor had jumped to her feet in the middle of an enthusiastic story about Corporal Jenkins, and Shepard wondered idly how she managed to stay standing with the room spinning as it was. Somehow, Shepard was unsurprised when the conversation made its way to Joker. She was reminded of a talk she'd had with Dr. Chakwas shortly after becoming a Spectre and taking command of the Normandy, where she'd probed the doctor for information about Kaidan. Shepard shoved this unwelcome thought aside. Kaidan wasn't here, and it had been two years since she'd died. Even if she was able to contact him, it wasn't as though they could just pick up where they left off.

"Jeff - Joker - will always have Vrolik Syndrome," Dr. Chakwas was saying. "He would never admit it, but he needs my help, and he always will."

Shepard squirmed uncomfortably. There were many questions she wanted to ask, but she had a feeling that Joker would be angry if he knew they were discussing him. Still, if she was ever going to get past that wall of awkwardness between them, she had to begin understanding him somehow.

Dr. Chakwas, astute even in a drunken haze, seemed to guess some of what she was thinking. "Joker is not an easy man to understand," she said slowly, "but I suspect I know him as well as anyone by now. There's a great deal beneath that cocky exterior."

"Don't know what it is about him," Shepard muttered. "Just gets under my skin ..." She'd intended to elaborate on her thoughts about the pilot, but somewhere between the words forming in her brain and leaving her mouth, she'd fallen asleep.

A couple hours later, Shepard woke with a start, catching herself just before she slid out of her chair. The sudden movement caused a wave of nausea and a needle-like pain behind her eyes, and she groaned. She opened her eyes cautiously, relieved to discover that the lights were off. Slowly, she staggered toward the door, past Dr. Chakwas, who was sleeping fully dressed on an exam table and snoring lightly. Coffee, that would do it. Or maybe, she amended as the brighter lights in the mess caused her headache to intensify, it would be better to just crawl into a dark hole somewhere and die. She managed to get the coffee started with one eye open, and then collapsed at the table, face hidden in her arms.

Joker squirmed as the elevator carried him down to the crew deck. He'd fallen asleep in his chair again, and leather seat or no, his muscles were paying for it. His back in particular was protesting, and he was hoping a hot shower would ease some of the pain. When the elevator finally opened, he started to head into the men's bathroom, but a noise, so quiet he wasn't certain he'd actually heard anything, distracted him. It came again, louder this time, and he froze. It was a deep, wordless groan, and at first it made him think of the old horror vids he'd enjoyed as a teenager. Then he remembered Feros, and eyeless corpses with long claws that rasped against metal as they attacked the Normandy. He began to edge around the corner as quietly as he was able, wishing he had some kind of weapon. Heart pounding, he emerged in the mess, hoping that if he was about to be eaten he'd at least manage not to scream like a little girl while he was at it.

The sight that awaited him was no less surprising than the ones he'd been imagining. Shepard was hunched over the dining table, face pressed against the cold metal surface, her dark hair in complete disarray, making a pitiful moaning noise. Joker, in his shock and relief, blurted unthinkingly, "Shit, Shepard, I thought you were a zombie!"

Shepard snapped upright, which caused her to wince and clutch at her head. _Way to go, man, now she thinks you're a complete dumbass **and** you managed to hurt her_. Joker watched as she got her bearings, wondering if she was injured somehow, but then her bloodshot eyes met his and he realized that the Commander was hungover.

Shepard stood, fixing herself a cup of coffee before returning to the table. Her steps were as wobbly as Joker's own unsteady gait, and he bit back a smile, remembering how just a few days before he'd been admiring her agility.

Shepard took a deep drink and sighed, then seemed to suddenly remember Joker's presence. "Um ..."

_She looks embarrassed!_ Joker thought gleefully. _I didn't even think she was capable_. "Rough night, Commander?"

She mumbled something into her cup, but Joker caught the words 'Chakwas' and 'brandy.' He grinned. "Don't worry," he said cheekily, "I won't tell anyone that the big hero can't hold her liquor."

"Hate you," she grumbled, glaring at him when he merely laughed in response.

Joker decided it was time to hit the showers, before Shepard lost her patience and pulled a gun on him. He was unable to resist a parting shot, however, and called over his shoulder, "You might want to wipe that drool off the table before Gardner gets here."

Shepard let out a string of imaginative curses, including several that Joker thought were krogan, and he laughed the rest of the way to the shower.


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard paced in front of her desk, trying to sort out her emotions. It felt strange, and more than a little like a waste of time, to be out actively recruiting like this. With Saren, she'd just seemed to gain crew members by accident; people following her because they believed in what she was doing.

But now ... how was she supposed to trust anyone who was only on board because of the Cerberus paycheck? Miranda was a spy for the Illusive Man, Zaeed would happily shoot her in the back if someone offered him enough money, and Jacob couldn't seem to get his head out of his ass long enough to decide whose side he was on. The only people she really trusted were the aliens, a thought which amused her to no end. Mordin was invaluable, and hilarious, if a little tiring. Garrus was just Garrus: hotheaded, fiercely loyal, and a wicked shot. Still, what she wouldn't give for her old crew back.

Her eyes strayed to the picture of Kaidan on her desk. She'd been so sure that he'd contact her eventually, once he found out she was alive. She was hardly making a secret of it, and she knew that the Alliance had heard the news, because she'd already received a message from Hackett. So why no word from Kaidan? Was he deep in an assignment somewhere, unable to communicate? Had he realized at some point over the last two years that they'd barely known each other, and decided he didn't care enough to speak to her again?

Shepard sagged against the wall, exhausted. It had been days since she'd gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. She'd find herself staring at the ceiling, watching the light from the fish tank flicker, plagued by thoughts of the life she'd lost and the uncertain path she was on now. With a frustrated sigh, Shepard pushed away from the wall, deciding that it was time to suck it up and ask the doctor for something. She hated the idea - with her luck they'd be attacked while she was in a drug-induced haze. But she had to admit that at this point she wasn't much more alert when she was awake.

When the elevator arrived on the crew deck, she approached the medbay and noticed the lights were dimmed. If Dr. Chakwas was already asleep, she'd have to try Mordin, which would likely result in her being stuck in the tech lab for an hour. After a moment's hesitation, she decided that she could rummage for something on her own and hope that Dr. Chakwas didn't strangle her later.

She waited as the doors hissed open, then stepped into the medbay, taking note of the doctor's empty chair and the complete lack of any drugs helpfully labeled "sleep." And ... Joker, fast asleep on one of the beds, his cap still on his head and a book lying open on his chest. Shepard quietly approached him, wondering if he'd hurt himself somehow, but there were no obvious signs of injury. He was flat on his back, unmoving, as if protecting his fragile bones even in sleep.

The book rose and fell with his steady breathing, and she leaned over to examine it. She wouldn't have imagined Joker as a reader. The book was obviously quite old; the binding was curling at the edges, and the pages had a yellowish tint. The illustration on the cover looked like it had been done by a child. There was some anonymous planet, emitting a harsh red glow, and orbiting the planet was the most absurd-looking spaceship Shepard had ever seen. It was doubtful whether the thing would make it off the ground in the first place, but the ridiculously large cannons mounted under the bow would throw off the balance completely. There was also a windshield, and for a moment Shepard was too busy fretting over the ship's structural integrity to notice the figure behind the glass. She leaned in for a closer look, and quickly pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle the giggles that threatened. The ship was helmed by a green-skinned alien with an enormous, bulbous head and bulging black eyes. It also didn't appear to be wearing any clothing, at least from the waist up, and instead of arms it had two sets of ... were those tentacles?

Unable to hold back any longer, Shepard burst into laughter. Joker jerked upright, uttering an inarticulate cry and dislodging the book, which fell to the floor with a muffled thump. Shepard braced herself against the bed, now laughing so hard that her chest ached and tears fell from her eyes.

Joker stared at her, eyes wide in bewilderment. "Um ... Commander?"

Shepard bent over to retrieve the book and held it up in front of her, grinning. "I'm pretty sure this picture alone could get humans kicked out of the Council. I can't wait to show Garrus." His face flushed, and Shepard felt like doing a little dance. Score one for the Commander, at last!

He frowned at her, and Shepard thought that he might storm off. Sighing, Joker reached up to adjust his hat. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Commander. If you give me a heart attack, who's going to save the day the next time your boots are in the fire?" He adopted a ridiculously high-pitched voice. "Joker, get me out of here, I just caused an earthquake. Joker, send the shuttle, I just pissed off an entire planet full of mercs."

"What can I say?" Shepard said, shrugging. "I have a way with people."

Joker shot her a look of disbelief, and she dissolved into laughter again. God, it felt so good to just laugh. "So what are you doing in here, anyway?" she asked.

Joker looked uncomfortable, and there was a long pause before he answered. "The doc makes me come down here when my shift's over for these torture sessions she calls 'therapy.' Sometimes I just stay here to sleep."

"Oh," Shepard said, feeling foolish. She recalled Dr. Chakwas saying Joker would always need her, but she hadn't considered what that really meant. She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but she remembered all too well how the conversation had gone the last time his condition had come up, so she groped a little desperately for another topic. "What's with the book?" she asked, idly flipping the pages. "It looks ... interesting. Don't tell me this is what inspired the great Jeff Moreau to become a pilot."

Joker snorted. "I grew up on Arcturus Station; I didn't have to read this stuff to learn about ships. Anyway, what else was I going to do, become a ballerina?"

His tone had suddenly turned bitter, and Shepard frowned. Why did he always have to be so damn defensive? She'd never walked on eggshells around anyone in her life, and it pissed her off that he could make her feel so uncertain. "I have to go see Mordin," she mumbled, slipping out the door before she could say something she'd regret.

Joker pounded a fist on the bed in frustration. He'd had maybe five minutes of genuine conversation with Shepard, and it had been good - he'd even made her laugh - and then he had to ruin it by being a jackass again. If he'd been able, he would have gone after her, said something to take the sting out of his words, but she'd left so quickly. And that was the problem, wasn't it? Even if she didn't have a head start, he wouldn't be able to keep up with her. Other people stood when the Commander entered a room, showed her the respect she deserved, but of course he'd be flat on his back when she walked in. And the damned bed was high enough that he couldn't just hop down, at least not without a big production that would have made the situation even more embarrassing. It would have been bad enough with anyone else, but having Shepard standing over him while he lay there like a stranded fish ... How could he not be a little agitated?

With a sigh, Joker eased himself off the bed and made his way out of the medbay. He was wide awake now, and Shepard had run off with his book, which pretty much left EDI as his only form of entertainment. He wasn't sure if it was possible for an AI to be angry, but she'd certainly sounded pissed the last time she'd caught him sneaking into the AI core. "Tampering with equipment is against Cerberus regulations, Mr. Moreau," he said aloud, mimicking EDI's smooth voice. "I'll show you tampering, you-"

Joker stopped short as he spotted Garrus, bent in half with his head inside a refrigerator. "Jeez, doesn't anyone sleep around here?"

"I've been doing some calibrations," Garrus answered without looking up. "Shepard wants to test-fire the Thanix Cannon tomorrow, but Donnelly's been complaining about how much power it draws."

Joker leaned against the counter, watching as the turian held up containers for inspection. "Did you happen to run into Shepard on your way here?"

"No," Garrus said, finally emerging with something that reminded Joker of wet cement. "Why?"

"What is that?" Joker asked, ignoring the question and reaching out a finger to poke at Garrus's food. It made an odd plopping sound as it shifted, and Joker felt his stomach turn in protest.

"Food," Garrus said shortly, knocking his hand away. "What did you do to piss off Shepard?"

"Nothing!" Joker insisted. Garrus grunted, and he amended, "Well, maybe I was sort of cranky, but that's part of my charm, right? Pilots are supposed to be unapproachable and mysterious."

Garrus shook his head. "You're lucky she didn't shoot you." After several silent moments, during which Garrus bolted down most of his food and Joker stared determinedly at the ceiling, Garrus spoke again. "I'm going to say this once, and if you tell anyone about this conversation, I'll put a few rounds from my assault rifle in your kneecap."

Joker's head snapped around in surprise. He wasn't certain whether Garrus was serious or not, but as he met the turian's unblinking gaze, he suddenly sympathized with small rodents about to be devoured by birds of prey. "Oookay ... "

"I've never seen Shepard doubt herself before, but this whole thing with Cerberus has her on edge. Anderson made it clear he can't trust her, and Alenko hasn't even bothered to show his face. She could use someone who cares about her. So just ... don't be an idiot." With that, Garrus stood, cleared away his dish, and headed back to the main battery, leaving Joker speechless.


	6. Chapter 6

Shepard sagged against the wall of the elevator as the doors slid closed, cutting off Jack's shout mid-word. She was fairly certain that her intervention had been enough to prevent actual bloodshed or damage to the ship, and beyond that it was up to Miranda to deal with their new crew member on her own.

When she arrived at her cabin, she tossed her helmet in the direction of her desk and began to fumble with the fastenings on her armor. Her hand was shaking slightly, and after several failed attempts she gave up, leaning her forehead against the cool wall of the aquarium as she tried to slow her breathing. She might have blamed it on the aftereffects of a prolonged adrenaline rush, or exhaustion, but physically she felt fine, as though she could go several more rounds with Warden Kuril without tiring. This new body (it felt wrong, somehow, to call it hers) had proven to be surprisingly durable. It was her mind, her emotions, that were the problem. Uncertainty, betrayal, loss, anger, always so close to the surface now. She wondered at times whether Cerberus had make a mistake, rewired her incorrectly.

There were moments - taking down a merc with Garrus or getting scolded by Dr. Chakwas - when things almost felt right. But reality intruded eventually. There had been a moment on the prison ship when she'd seen a flare of biotic power just behind her and turned, half-expecting to see Kaidan standing there, grinning from the rush of battle. Instead, it had been Jacob, aloof and silent, and still not someone she was sure she trusted to have her back. Even Garrus had changed. He was no less loyal to Shepard or the mission, but he was harder, less idealistic.

Oddly, some of the few times she'd felt normal since becoming involved with Cerberus had been with Joker. She'd taken his puzzling attitude as a challenge, a distraction from the life-and-death urgency that marked most of her days. And when he wasn't pissing her off, he made her laugh, something she'd been doing far too little of lately.

She pushed away from the aquarium, calmer now, and picked up the book she'd accidentally taken from Joker in the medbay. Maybe this was a piece to the puzzle, a glimpse behind what Dr. Chakwas had called his cocky exterior. A hint that there was some sentimentality there, perhaps. She sat on her bed and flipped through the book, stopping when she came to a page that had obviously been dog-eared and smoothed out again. A favorite passage? She began to read, her curiosity overtaking the nagging feeling that she was doing something intrusive. She'd only gotten a couple of sentences in when EDI's voice interrupted.

"Commander Shepard. Operative Lawson is requesting your presence in her quarters."

Shepard sighed in frustration, annoyed at the disturbance. It seemed as though the Cerberus officer considered herself too important to leave her desk or send her own message. She stood, tossing the book onto the bed, and hurried out the door, eager to get the conversation over with.

*****

Joker stood outside Shepard's cabin, nervously drumming his fingers against his leg as he debated turning and getting back into the elevator. There was still enough of the military in his blood that something seemed wrong about visiting his commander's quarters this late at night. And although he knew she slept as little as he did - he'd seen her roaming the ship at all hours - there was always the chance she was sleeping now, and would introduce him to a whole new world of pain for waking her. But he hurt, damn it, and he needed something to distract him from the pain and the anger that invariably came with it, and she'd stolen his book. That he could probably recite the entire thing from memory was beside the point. There was something comforting in the feel of it, the action of turning the pages, even the smell, sweet and dusty and familiar.

He stepped close to the door, and to his surprise, it opened automatically. It was hard to imagine that someone with as many enemies as Shepard would leave her door unlocked, and the thought that something might be wrong propelled him inside. He glanced around, sparing a jealous thought for the size of the place, before concluding that she wasn't in the room. He should have left then, waited for her outside or given up altogether, but his curiosity won out over reason, and he began poking around.

She seemed to own even fewer personal items than he did. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised - it wasn't as though she'd been able to stop at home and pack before boarding the ship. It was a sobering thought. What must it have been like for her to wake up and discover that two years had passed without her, that all the people and things that had once been so familiar were gone? She seemed the same, strong and determined, never complaining, but now that he thought about it, he'd never noticed this nocturnal wandering in the old days.

Joker strolled over to her desk, which was bare except for her personal terminal and a single framed photograph. He leaned close to peer at the picture, and frowned when he saw that it was Alenko. Kaidan's location was still classified, so it had to have been taken before her death. But where had it come from? Why would she keep it on her desk, after all this time? And why did it bother him so damned much to look at it?

Something just above eye level caught his attention, and he glanced up to see a model ship suspended in midair. He knew it was the Normandy even before he took it down to inspect it, and he felt a rush of pride. She might have Alenko's picture on her desk, but the only other personal touch in the room was this replica of the Normandy, and no matter what it might have said on the Alliance paperwork, that ship had been _his_. Joker grinned as he inspected the model. It was perfect, down to the last detail, and he was unable to resist sailing it through the air, putting his baby through her paces one last time. He mimicked a series of evasive maneuvers, picturing a heated battle in his mind, and he could almost feel that surge of exhilaration that only came when he was at the helm, the lives of the entire crew in his hands. He jerked the ship into a sharp turn, rotating his body to follow its path, and found himself face-to-face with Commander Shepard.


	7. Chapter 7


    Shepard stormed out of Miranda's office with her jaw clenched, ignoring the nervous glances the few crewmen lingering in the mess  
    
    shot her. She began throwing open cabinets, only to slam them shut moments later in dissatisfaction. _Why_ was there no alcohol on this  
    
    ship? With each bang, a crew member would slink away, until Shepard was alone, empty-handed and somewhat abashed at her outburst.  
      
    
    She leaned against the table and sighed, regarding the room with a frown. It felt sterile and overbright, and she was suddenly  
    
    overcome by longing for the SR-1. It would have been darker, more cramped, but pleasantly so - almost cozy. Her old team members  
    
    would not have fled in the face of her anger, but weathered it with varying degrees of patience and humor. They would have been on  
    
    her side, a united front against Miranda as the Cerberus operative attempted to exert control over the mission. Kaidan would have  
    
    followed her into the XO's office, his steady presence comforting, a reminder to keep her temper in check.  
      
    
    Kaidan. His station would be nearby, just on the other side of the wall. He'd be standing there frowning in concentration, long after  
    
    his shift ended, his skin a warm bronze in the glow of his terminal. He'd look up as she approached, so handsome it made her ache,  
    
    and offer an awkward salute, though she'd long ago told her crew not to stand on formalities. He'd always been there when she needed  
    
    a shoulder, eager to listen and unafraid to voice his opinion, understanding that while she was the Commander, she was still human,  
    
    fallible and given to moments of fear and insecurity.  
      
    
    She needed that now, more than she wanted to admit.  
      
    
    Shepard trudged into the elevator, her thoughts turning from nostalgia to the warm bed that awaited her. The dim light and gentle  
    
    sense of motion were relaxing, and she felt as though she could lean her head against the cool wall and doze off. She closed her  
    
    eyes, imagining a world where she could curl up in bed and drift into a dreamless sleep, with the knowledge that everything would be  
    
    fine when she awoke.  
      
    
    The elevator opened, jolting Shepard from her thoughts. She took one step toward her cabin door and froze, instinct bringing her hand  
    
    to rest on the pistol at her side. It was paranoid, perhaps, going around armed on her own ship, but experience had taught to her  
    
    expect anything and trust no one. And it seemed the precaution had been wise - someone was moving around in her room.  
    
    The door opened, and Shepard peered around the frame, her body mostly hidden - a habit born from years of easing around corners  
    
    during firefights.  
      
    
    His back was to her, but there was no doubting the awkward stance. Joker was in the middle of the room, her model of the Normandy  
    
    clutched in one hand as his arm drifted through the air. He began to turn, the motion surprisingly graceful, and she saw the  
    
    unreserved delight on his face for a split second, before he registered her presence and his expression turned to one of horror.  
      
    
    "Shepard! I - damn it!" He bobbled the ship in his surprise and nearly dropped it before hastily placing it on her desk.  
      
    
    Shepard leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed, biting back laughter as she gave Joker her best stern Commander face. It was rare  
    
    that she found herself with the advantage, and she was determined to make him squirm.  
      
    
    He frowned back at her, and she recognized the stubborn posturing of someone who knows he's been caught, but refuses to back down. "I  
    
    came for my book," he said shortly.  
      
    
    "I see," she said, catching herself before she could dart a guilty glance at the book lying open on her bedside table. "And the Crazy  
    
    Ivan?"  
      
    
    Joker stood a little straighter, and when he spoke his voice was affronted. "Are you - that was no Crazy Ivan! How in the hell can  
    
    you have spent so much time on ships and not know - " He broke off, his frown deepening as Shepard covered her mouth to hide a grin.  
      
    
    "I'm sorry," she said, moving past him into the room. "You were just so - " _Relaxed? Entertaining? Surprisingly adorable?_ She  
    
    shook off the thought and waved a hand, unable to come up with an appropriate word. She kept walking, instead, intending to grab the  
    
    book off her table and pass it to him, but as she crossed the room, Joker turned and began to walk away.  
      
    
    "Look, never mind. If you aren't planning on shooting me or something, I've got things to do."  
      
    
    It was on the tip of her tongue to call him back, but she could see that he was moving as quickly as he was able, as though he  
    
    couldn't escape fast enough, and in the end she simply watched him go.  
      
    
    Joker leaned against the interior of the elevator and stared blankly at the controls, wishing he could kick the wall without  
    
    shattering something in his leg. There had been nothing malicious about Shepard's teasing - he knew that - but he still hadn't been  
    
    able to stop the instinctive defensiveness. He needed someone to complain to, someone who could tell him what the hell he was doing  
    
    wrong. The problem was, most of the crew was asleep, and even if they hadn't been, it wasn't as though he was particularly close to  
    
    anyone. Then an idea came to him, and he slapped the button for Deck 3 before he could change his mind.  
      
    
    "You know, don't you?" Joker demanded as the door to the main battery whispered shut behind him.  
      
    
    Garrus turned and blinked once, his head cocked slightly to the side. Joker was no expert in turian body language, but the unspoken  
    
    'What the hell are you talking about?' came through loud and clear.  
      
    
    "You know," Joker repeated, feeling like turning up uninvited had been a very bad idea. "That I - the Commander - that's why you  
    
    threatened to shoot me in the knee."  
      
    
    "You have thirty seconds to explain why you just barged in here in the middle of the night before I make your knee the least of your  
    
    problems," Garrus growled. "Did something happen with Shepard?"  
      
    
    "She might have caught me in her cabin. I didn't mean to be in there, but I was playing with the toy Normandy, and-"  
      
    
    "Is that some sort of human euphemism?" Garrus' eyes narrowed as he advanced on Joker. The pilot backed away, hands raised in  
    
    submission.  
      
    
    "No! Her model ship! I went to get my book, which, god damn it, is still in there." Joker noticed Garrus' talons twitching, and he  
    
    began to speak rapidly. "Look, you're her friend. You understand her better than I do. I just can't figure out how to talk to her  
    
    without making an idiot of myself."  
      
    
    "You want me to give you advice on how to mate with Shepard?"  
      
    
    "What? No! I mean - " Joker tugged at the bill of his hat in frustration. _Great idea, Moreau. At least there'll be no need to worry_  
    
    about the Commander thinking you're a jackass after you get murdered by a _pissed off turian._ His mind began to conjure images of the  
    
    many creative methods of dismemberment Garrus had probably encountered during his time with C-Sec, and he shuffled backward until his  
      
    
    ass hit the door.  
    
    "On second thought, I'm just going to go, and, you know, fly the ship now." Joker turned and hurried away, the doors closing on  
    
    Garrus' disbelieving face before he had time to respond.  
      
    
    Joker collapsed into his seat, grateful for the comfort after his trek across the ship. He spun to face the controls, and squinted at  
    
    the object perched on the console in front of him. It was Shepard's model of the Normandy. He stared at it for a moment, wondering  
    
    if he'd slipped off into some bizarre dream, or if the Commander was messing with him.  
      
    
    Then he noticed the scrap of paper pinned beneath it and smiled. It was gratifying, somehow, that on this ship filled with  
    
    cutting-edge technology, he and Shepard would interact by way of paperback books and handwritten notes.
    
    __  
    Keep it, Shepard had written in a neat, bold hand. _She belonged to you, anyway_. Then, in an untidy scrawl, as though she'd added it  
    
    as an afterthought: _But I'm reading the book_.
    
    


	8. Chapter 8

Shepard buried her face in her hands, shutting out the words that glowed on her private terminal. She'd opened the message from Admiral Hackett with a resigned sigh, half-expecting details of a geth outpost or some traumatized biotic holding people hostage. Instead she'd been provided with the location of the _Normandy_ 's crash site and a request for some kind of memorial. Emotions crowded in – dread, guilt, fear, denial - and she settled for one that she was most comfortable with: anger. How could Hackett think she'd want to view the evidence of her death? She needed no reminder of the last seconds of her life. They played over and over again in her nightmares, limbs flailing in panic before she'd wake gasping for a breath that she thought would never come. And did he really think she had nothing better to do than go around placing monuments?

But … 20 crewmen. Jacob had told her that a few servicemen from the lower decks hadn't made it, but 20? They'd been under her command, her responsibility. And if the Collectors hadn't been targeting her, as the Illusive Man suspected, they wouldn't have died. Didn't she owe it to them, this small gesture to acknowledge they'd given their lives for her cause? She'd already agreed to several personal missions for her new crew; did the old deserve any less? And perhaps she owed it to herself, as well, to finally face what had happened.

She changed her mind twice in the elevator and half a dozen times during the walk across the bridge. They were en route to the Citadel for supplies, and she needed to tell Joker to turn around before they got any farther off course. But maybe the trip could wait until after the Citadel … or better yet, after the Collectors were dealt with. She found herself standing behind Joker's chair, still grappling with indecision, and when he spun to look at her she was unable to speak.

"Commander? Something wrong?" Joker was slouched indifferently in his seat, his voice faintly amused.

She was on the verge of shaking her head and walking away when she spotted her model of the _Normandy_ perched on the controls, and guilt settled heavily onto her chest. Of course, the _Normandy_ hadn't just belonged to her; it had meant something to everyone on board. For most, maybe, it was only another posting, or a symbol of a great victory by humanity. But for some it had been home; it had meant everything. Joker had watched his life go down in flames that day as surely as she had.

"I need you to set a course for the Omega Nebula. Alchera." His eyebrows disappeared under his hat, and Shepard wondered if this was the first time Joker had ever been speechless. Of course he'd know what was on Alchera – if the _Normandy_ had crashed there, the escape pods must have, as well. "It's a request from Admiral Hackett," she continued, "and I thought -"

"I'm coming with you," Joker interrupted. His voice was firm, nothing like the affected boredom she was used to, and he was suddenly rigid in his seat.

She'd considered asking Garrus to examine the site with her, as the turian had long since learned to weather her infrequent emotional storms. But Joker was sarcastic and aloof and always managed to throw her off balance. Then there were the logistical concerns: he would slow her down, and what if they were attacked down there? Surely Joker had learned to handle a weapon during his Alliance training, but he would be unable to run or throw himself into cover.

She studied his shadowed face while she thought, and he glared back unflinchingly. It was that, more than anything, that decided it for her. It had been years – since Elysium, really- since anyone had squared off with her and refused to back down, and she was grudgingly impressed. It seemed that once Joker abandoned snark and sarcasm, he had a stubborn streak to match her own.

"Yes," she said at last. "All right."

xxxxx

When Joker stepped onto Alchera for the second time in his life, his first thought was, how could a place that had seen such tragedy be so beautiful? Darkness had fallen on the icy planet, and snowflakes drifted gently from a starry sky. It was peaceful, the quiet marred only by the cracking of ice underfoot. And everywhere, littering the rocky, frozen expanse, was the wreckage of the _Normandy_.

Shepard had immediately begun picking her way through the debris, searching for the dog tags of the lost crewmen. He saw her flinch every time she discovered a new tag, as though reading the names caused her physical pain. He felt as though he was intruding on something intensely personal, and his instinct to turn away warred with his desire to break the heavy silence. Then he spotted something in the distance, perched awkwardly atop a large rock, and exclaimed in surprise. "Look, it's the Mako. It's still in one piece, too. Must be all those hours Garrus spent down in the cargo bay, fondling it."

Shepard turned to follow his gaze and shook her head. "Unbelievable. I died, and that damned thing barely has a scratch on it."

Joker tensed, wishing he hadn't spoken. Why, _why_ did he ever open his mouth? But then Shepard suddenly laughed, and the sound was so unexpected and carefree that he looked around for a moment to make sure no one else was there.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Shepard continued. "After all, it made it through that insane crash landing on Ilos."

"Hey," he protested, "that was no crash landing. That was a carefully controlled drop, one that couldn't have been pulled off by anyone less than -"

"The best helmsman in the Alliance fleet; yeah, I know," Shepard interrupted. There was still laughter in her voice, and the pilot grinned, feeling as though he'd won some small victory.

Joker began to wander in the direction of the Mako, thinking he'd scavenge a hunk of the vehicle as a souvenir. Possibly Garrus would like to have it, and it couldn't hurt to be on the turian's good side. He'd only taken a couple steps before disaster struck. He'd been looking ahead instead of down, and his right foot snagged on a small rock. He tried to brace himself with his left, but his boot slid on the icy ground, and he began to pitch forward, his arms pinwheeling madly. He was watching the ground approach at a frightening speed, wondering exactly how many bones were going to shatter on impact, when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him upright.

He twisted his head to look at his savior and found Shepard pressed against his back, arms still wrapped around him and her chin tucked between his neck and shoulder. He could hear her panting through the comm., but his own lungs seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to function. If anyone had asked, he'd have sworn with his last breath that it was merely embarrassment that she'd had to rescue him, but in that moment he lost all vestiges of his denial. There was something about the intimacy of the position, having her strong and solid at his back, knowing that he could trust that she'd always be there …. It was calm and safe, and so altogether unfamiliar that he felt himself begin to panic. So, he took refuge in the familiar and turned to anger instead.

"I don't need your help," he snapped, shoving her away. Shepard stepped back, her hands raised in a gesture of peace, though he could see from the slump of her shoulders that the words had stung. It was a lie, anyway, and they both knew it. He'd barely gotten clearance to come on this little adventure in the first place, and he suspected that was largely because of Shepard's intervention. Dr. Chakwas had poked and prodded and fretted until she'd finally given in and agreed that he was fine to go, as long as he was careful. He'd slid off the exam table with an exasperated "Yes, _mom_ ," which had earned him a truly terrifying glare, but it was worth it.

Joker began to walk, heading in a random direction just to escape the awkwardness of the situation. Shepard reached for him hesitantly, as though she wanted to stop him but feared the argument that would follow. Instead, she let her arm drop and trailed after him. She kept a respectable distance between them, but Joker knew she was staying close enough to catch him if he stumbled again. He shook his head at her determination to protect him, even after he'd just been an ass again, and he considered stopping to talk to her. But as he turned to look at her, he finally spotted it – the reason he'd insisted on accompanying her to this frozen rock, the one area of the ship that had been undeniably his.

He made his way carefully through the narrow corridor toward the cockpit, ducking to avoid jagged metal and dangling cables. It was still surprisingly intact, its frame curving toward the sky like the ribs of some great decaying beast. He reached out to touch the seat – his seat – and thought with fierce pride of everything he had done there. He'd dropped Shepard into hell and pulled her back out again, helped to destroy a Reaper and save the lives of the Council. And he'd very nearly lost his own life, if not for Shepard and her stubborn, mystifying determination to save him.

He looked back to where Shepard crouched just outside the wreckage, sifting through the packed snow for another tag. What would have happened if he hadn't argued, if he'd just gone when she asked? Would she have lived, gone on to unite everyone behind her in her fight against the Reapers? Would the threat have been over by now, with two years and unlimited resources to fight it? All those opportunities gone, so that he could live. He'd been fighting the urge for months now to ask her why, to shake her and demand an answer that would assuage his guilt. But the answer was simple enough, and all the more painful for it – she wouldn't be Shepard if she hadn't tried to save him. "I'm sorry," he said aloud. He was too cowardly to say it to her face, but maybe saying it here, at the scene of the crime, would ease some of the burden. "It should have been me, and I'm sorry."

"Joker?" Shepard's voice was soft and uncertain, and he cursed. Of course, the damn comm. was still open when he decided to start talking to himself. Then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he jumped. She was right behind him, staring at him with some expression he couldn't make out through the faceplate of her helmet, and he wondered if she'd stop him if he tried to launch himself off a cliff in embarrassment.

"Joker." Shepard tugged carefully on his sleeve, forcing him to turn and fully face her. Her voice was stronger now, but still concerned, a combination of the Commander and something else, something more human. Maybe this was the Shepard Kaidan and Garrus knew, the one Joker often wished he'd been allowed to see.

She looked at him for a long moment, her hand still gentle on his arm. He wondered if she'd ever touch him when she wasn't either arguing with him or saving his life, and his face heated at the thought. Then Shepard spoke again, four words that ignited the pain and confusion he'd fought since that day the _Normandy_ was lost.

"I don't blame you."


	9. Chapter 9

Shepard felt Joker stiffen under her hand, and tension seemed to crackle in the thick Alcheran air. It was enough to make her want to turn away, take back the words that had slipped from her mouth before she could control them. This was something different, unlike their previous bitter exchanges and exasperated sniping. She'd heard the pain and guilt in his voice, and she thought she finally understood what Dr. Chakwas had meant about Joker's many layers. Was it possible that underneath the arrogance and teasing, he really thought he'd deserved to die in her place?

He laughed bitterly. "You don't blame me? That makes you the only person in the galaxy who doesn't."

Shepard shook her head, even as a small voice in her mind whispered a reminder that she _had_ blamed him, once. She'd had time, during long, sleepless nights spent contemplating the stars overhead, to consider the many ways things could have gone differently. If he hadn't been so stubborn, if he'd been faster, if he would have just stopped arguing, for once. But in the end, she understood. Clinging to that last bit of hope, refusing to see that the last chance had come and gone and only death remained…it was only human. Hell, she'd built her entire career on it.

Still, how to make Joker understand that, when every conversation with him was a minefield?

"No," she said carefully. "I don't." It was a voice she'd used before, with traumatized people on the verge of violence, and it had always worked in the past. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten that Joker had been listening in on most of those occasions.

"Christ, Shepard, spare me the pep talk, will you? Why do you think the Alliance was so happy to see me go? Everyone knew I was that asshole who got the savior killed. Every time I saw Alenko, I thought he was going to grind my bones into dust. Even Anderson couldn't look me in the eye anymore. They were all thinking it – it should have been me."

Shepard felt something in her chest constrict at the mention of Kaidan. It had been weeks since she'd thought of her old lover, since she'd felt that aching emptiness at the thought of what she'd lost. And why not? Who had the time or energy to spare on trivial, personal matters when so much was at stake? But even as the thought came, she knew it wasn't true. She'd had plenty of time, during those long hours when sleep refused to come and her only company was the quiet rumble of the ship. In the absence of anger and regret, she found her thoughts returning again and again to the man who now stood before her. A challenge, a puzzle…a nuisance, but somehow a welcome one.

Joker began to turn away, the crunch of his boots on the ice startling Shepard from her thoughts, and she realized that he'd taken her silence as agreement. She was used to him storming away in anger, but everything from the slump of his shoulders to the weariness in his voice spoke of defeat. It was disconcerting and _wrong_ , and the words left her mouth before she had time to consider how he'd react to them. "Joker, you couldn't have known-"

He spun, more quickly than she'd have given him credit for, fists clenched as he advanced on her. She could see his face reddening even through the light fog that had formed on his visor.

"I couldn't have known? I couldn't have known that we were taking fire, and that the rest of the crew was already on the evac shuttles? I couldn't have known that you would come back for me, because that's just what you do?" He was in her face, shouting so loudly that the comm. crackled with static and made Shepard wince. "I knew! I knew, and I didn't care, because that ship was the only thing I had! Goddamn it, Shepard, why didn't you just _go_?"

He turned and limped toward the shuttle, his stride even more ungainly than usual in the heavy boots and unfamiliar gravity. She watched him go, the retort on the tip of her tongue dying in an exasperated huff that condensed in the chilly air. She could catch him easily, argue until they both ran out of oxygen, but she suspected it would achieve nothing but further injury to his pride.

_Let him have the last word this time, but this is far from over_.

xxxxx

Joker gritted his teeth as he lumbered the few remaining steps to his chair. He'd suffered many tense minutes on the shuttle back imaging what it would feel like when Shepard shoved him out the airlock. Now he was paying for the hours spent on the frozen planet, the ache in his limbs bone-deep and needle-sharp. And to top it all off, there was someone in his seat. Was it too much to ask that everyone realize he was pissed off and wanted to be left alone with his ship? He snarled at the fresh-faced young Cerberus pilot, who offered a half-hearted argument about shifts and sleep schedules before fleeing under the weight of Joker's practiced glare.

He eased into the chair and ran a hand over the soft leather, just one reminder of how things could change so much and yet stay the same. He'd thought that coming back from the dead would alter a person in some fundamental way, but as always, Shepard defied expectations. She still faced every problem with the same determination, charging in to save the day and dealing out her own peculiar brand of violence and mercy.

Joker poked the model of the _Normandy_ that now hung above the controls, watching it swing in lazy circles as he thought about the commander. He wondered whether anyone else had noticed that, underneath the wall of confidence she projected, Shepard was exhausted. He'd observed her wandering the ship when she should have been asleep, seen the doubt creep into her eyes when she thought no one was watching. He wished he could know how much of it was the assignment, the long odds and terrible danger, and how much of it was the knowledge of her death and everything it had changed. How much of it, in short, was his fault?

But then there were those moments when that spark returned, and she was beautiful and dangerous and so wonderfully alive. He'd seen it after she'd run into Tali, after she'd been assured that Garrus would survive, and – though it was nearly incomprehensible – a few times, it had been directed at him. When she'd mocked his book, when she'd caught him playing with the toy ship…he'd done that. However indirectly, he'd been responsible for putting the joy back in her eyes. And in return, she'd quelled the fire of his guilt, quieted that part of himself that wished he'd gone down with the _Normandy_. Was it possible, then, that despite everything, it had all worked out for the best? That maybe in some crazy, twisted way, they needed each other, and she was glad he was there?

"You're dreaming, Moreau," he muttered, dropping his face into his hands and resting his elbows atop the console. His hat tumbled off, unnoticed amidst his jumbled thoughts. Even if Shepard didn't hate him, it was arrogance to think that she _needed_ him. But then, Shepard would be the first to tell him how arrogant he was. He laughed aloud at the thought, a rough bark muffled by his cupped hands.

"You know what they say about people who talk to themselves," a voice said from behind him.

He turned to find Shepard, whose hair and clothes were rumpled as though she had just climbed out of bed. She looked…cute…and he hid a grin at the thought of how she'd react to the description. Dismemberment seemed likely. "That it's a sign of genius?"

"Madness, actually," she countered.

Her eyes were alight with humor, and Joker had to look away, unable to cobble together a witty retort while she was smiling at him like that. He settled for a mumbled, "Bah, same thing," which he decided was acceptable when Shepard laughed softly.

There was a beat of silence, strangely comfortable, and then Shepard spoke again, her voice more serious. "Thank you for going down there with me. It…wasn't something I wanted to do alone."

Joker knew some kind of response would be appropriate – _you're welcome_ , or _thank you for taking me_ – but the words sounded insincere, insufficient to convey how much it had meant to see the Normandy one last time, and with her. She probably knew better than to expect it from him anyway, so in the end he just nodded.

He risked another glance at her, hoping his mouth wouldn't run away from him if she was still grinning, and froze when he saw that she was suddenly much nearer than she had been. She leaned toward him, and his breath caught as nervousness and excitement warred in his chest. She was so _close_ , and he could smell coffee and gunmetal, and something in his brain seemed to have short-circuited. Then she reached around him, lifted something off the console and straightened with his hat in her hands.

"You know," Shepard mused, "I've never seen you without this thing." She dropped it onto her own head, cocked at a jaunty angle, and raised her eyebrows in question. "What you do think?" Joker merely stared, unable to jump-start the connection between his mouth and brain. Shepard seemed content to carry on the conversation without him, regardless, and after a moment she shrugged and removed the cap. "Yeah, you're right – it looks better on you."

She reached out, and before Joker could register what was happening, small, strong fingers were running through his hair, smoothing the disheveled mess away from his forehead. Her hand was warm and gentle, and Joker recalled his thought from earlier, that she'd never touch him unless she was saving his life. This was _so_ much better than he'd imagined.

Then she was pulling away, and she settled the hat back on his head with a quiet, satisfied sound before turning to exit the bridge.

"See ya, Joker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the formatting is a little wonky, but I don't have the original files anymore, and I've been having to save the html document from where this is posted on FF.net and copy and paste here. It takes a ridiculously long time to go back and fix all the indentations and stuff, and I quite frankly decided I'd rather go ahead and get the story moved over sometime this century.


	10. Chapter 10

Joker pounded a fist into his chair, cursing loudly when his hand blazed with pain. One of the Cerberus crewmen shot him a disapproving look, and he glared back nastily, daring the man to speak. He'd been half-listening to the communications from Horizon, trying to ignore the shouts of panic and the sound of gunfire and focus on those moments of relief when he heard Shepard's voice. It was, he thought, rather like a child hiding under the bed, trying to convince himself that if he simply didn't look, nothing bad would happen. It was enough to know she was still alive – he could worry about the rest later. Then a new voice had come over the comm., one he hadn't heard in two years but recognized instantly, and he'd begun to eavesdrop shamelessly.

Alenko, angrily discoursing on the evils of Cerberus, while Shepard responded with deadly calm. Didn't the man know there was no point in arguing with the commander? She was not only one of the more intimidating people he'd ever met, but far and away the most stubborn. Surely if Joker could hear the danger in her voice, her ex-lover should have picked up on it. He'd always thought his former crewmate too dispassionate, straight-laced to the point of being boring. But it seemed that he, too, suffered from Joker's recently discovered affliction: when it came to Shepard, speech and reason parted ways.

He was torn from his thoughts by an angry growl, as Garrus argued with the Staff Commander. The fact that Shepard was allowing someone else to fight her battle, even briefly, was telling, and he cursed himself for missing part of the conversation. Whatever the man had said, it must have been –

"You betrayed me!"

There was a beat of shocked silence, and then a low rumble vibrated through the comm. Joker leaned forward eagerly, recognizing the sound as one he'd provoked a time or two, before he'd realized that Garrus _really_ didn't respond well to sarcasm. It meant that the turian was a step away from ripping Kaidan's face off, and Joker allowed himself a moment to indulge in the fantasy. He knew that Shepard could protect herself, but every cell in his body was screaming with the need to go down there and kick the shit out of Alenko.

It was a low blow, one that Alenko had to know would sting worse than any other provocation he could sling at her. To accuse Shepard of disloyalty – Shepard, who had literally given her life for her crew, who still ran missions for the Alliance even after they'd tarnished her name.

"Joker!" Shepard snapped. He jumped guiltily, before remembering that she had no way to know he'd been eavesdropping. "Get us out of here…I've had enough of this planet."

He'd watched her board the ship after a mission too many times to count. There were the successful runs, when she'd be flushed from the adrenaline high, arguing good-naturedly with Williams or Garrus over who was the better shot. There were the near-misses, when she'd burst through the air lock, sweating and singed, to half-collapse on the bridge. There were the times when she was injured, and she'd stagger down the corridor, waving off any offers of assistance with a forced smile. That day, as Joker piloted the _SR-2_ aimlessly away from Horizon, was the first time he'd seen her look defeated.

The salarian wandered by first, eyes fixed on his omni-tool as he chattered to himself about the data he'd collected. Then Garrus, sneaking the occasional look over his shoulder at Shepard, who trailed behind, her eyes downcast. She was tapping her helmet against her leg in agitation, her free hand clenched at her side. Garrus hesitated, reaching out a hand as though he was thinking of comforting her, and then shook his head and walked away.

"Commander." Joker spoke without meaning to, something about the way Shepard was hovering uncertainly near the airlock forcing the word from his lips. He knew he was the last person anyone would want to have a heart-to-heart with, but…it just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Shepard, who spent all her time saving everyone else, should stand there looking so small and alone.

She looked up, and when he met her eyes they were angry and red, but dry. Of course, this was the commander, and she was more likely to work out her issues by charging, guns blazing, into a merc hideout than admit she'd do anything so pedestrian as cry. Something in his face must have given him away, because her gaze was suddenly embarrassed and defiant, and he knew there was no use in pretending he hadn't been listening.

There were so many things he wanted to say, chief among them 'He's a psychopath and you should forget about him,' but Shepard had loved the idiot. Anyone could see it, and he'd gleefully interrupted them often enough that he knew better than anyone. He wanted to make her understand, somehow, to do for her what she'd done for him. He wanted to make her see that it wasn't her fault.

"When you died-" The word stuck in his throat, and he forced himself to swallow the guilt that came with it. She didn't blame him. Whatever the Alliance or anyone else thought, she didn't blame him. "He wasn't the same after that. Threw himself into his work, but he was always so distant; no one could talk to him. It was like he was lost without you. Seeing you standing there, seeing that you're really alive…it was too much." He realized that at some point he'd started talking about himself, and that Shepard was watching him with an unreadable expression, but his mouth carried on without him. "I don't know, there's just something about you that makes people crazy."

_What the hell, Moreau? 'You make people crazy'?_ _That's the best you could do?_ First he'd come dangerously close to making the conversation too personal, when he certainly had no plans to ever admit that Shepard turned his brain to mush. Then he was pretty sure he'd managed to insult her, the one time he'd actually been trying to say something nice.

Joker had pissed off a lot of people in his life. It was almost an art form, seeing how far he could push before someone snapped. With Shepard, it was usually too close to call, and that had been half the fun. She'd mastered a long, perilous silence, the kind that meant it could go either way, as soon as she decided if it would be worth it to finally kill him. He used to think it was hilarious, getting a rise out of her, but he suddenly couldn't face it. He didn't want to look up and see the anger and disappointment in her eyes, confirmation that he'd become hopelessly entrenched in his bitterness. Finally, though, it had dragged on for too long, and she was still just standing there, and he had to risk a glance.

She was smiling. It was small and a little sad, but it warmed her eyes and transformed her into something real and human. He had time to marvel that yes, that was all directed at him, and then she leaned over and hugged him. It was awkward and one-armed, and she was wearing armor splattered in…something he didn't even want to think about…but still, she was _hugging_ him.

"Thanks, Joker." She released him all too quickly, but he saw that the enthusiasm was back in her step as she turned away. "I don't know what I'd do without you."


	11. Chapter 11

"Chicka chong chicka chong, chicka chacka chooka chong…."

Shepard froze behind Joker's chair, grinning as she held up a hand to silence EDI. The _Normandy_ was about to dock on Illium, and she'd wandered onto the bridge to watch the approach. Joker was sprawled in his seat, tapping out a rhythm on the armrests as he sang.

"Chicka bop-dop choppin, de bow wow wow!"

He finished with a flourish, and Shepard began to clap slowly. Joker spun around with a resigned sigh. "You could have _warned_ me, EDI. I swear that thing's sadistic."

"Having fun, Joker?" Shepard asked innocently.

"Eh…I never thought I'd say this with _you_ around, but I'm bored. It's been weeks since anyone shot at us. And you have to admit, this cockpit is kind of lacking in entertainment." He scowled at the AI. "I was thinking of installing some lava lamps. Maybe Christmas lights for ambiance? What do you think?"

Shepard leaned against the wall, considering him for a moment. His tone was light, but she could see the pent-up energy in the way he shifted restlessly, never completely at ease. She tried to imagine what it would be like, never leaving the ship, never feeling the open air. The thought made her cringe. It was true that she couldn't exactly take Joker on missions with her, but there was no reason he couldn't tag along while she shopped for upgrades. It was something she should've thought of a long time ago, further evidence that she'd been taking the pilot for granted.

"I was going to check out some of the weapons dealers on Illium," she said. "Why don't you come? It'd get you away from EDI for a while."

Expressions flickered across his face - surprise, relief, wide-eyed pleasure. It made him look younger, and it was so _honest_ , somehow, lacking all his usual bravado. Then it was gone, and he tugged his hat over his eyes and answered casually. "Yeah, and you've never been there before, so there shouldn't even be anyone who wants to kill you...theoretically…yet. Aw, hell, what am I saying? I'll probably have to drag you out of there with your hair on fire. Should be fun."

An hour later, they were wandering through a marketplace, trying to decide where to begin, when something caught Shepard's eye. A green-skinned asari was sitting nearby, arguing with someone on a communicator. The voice was familiar, but she couldn't recall ever meeting anyone that particular shade before. She slowed, frowning as she searched her memory.

"Huh," Joker said, following her gaze. "Aren't asari usually more…purple?"

Just then, the asari in question spotted them and leapt from her seat, calling, "Shepard! Shepard!"

Shepard groaned, dragging a hand across her face. "Well, that didn't take long."

"Don't worry," Joker muttered in her ear. "You probably saved her kitten from a tree or something, and now she wants to repay you with her firstborn child."

Shepard snorted, then quickly manufactured a polite smile for the approaching asari, who grasped her hand and began to speak in earnest. "Oh, Shepard! Maybe you can help me. But I don't suppose you'd remember who I am? I'm Shiala."

Shepard studied the serious green face, puzzled. Joker, who had moved to stand beside and slightly behind the asari, began mouthing something at her. She squinted, wondering when she'd ever given him the impression that she could read lips. She shook her head slightly as he repeated himself. Zoo-something, maybe? He waved a hand impatiently, thought for a moment, then with exaggerated care mouthed _zombies_. He formed his hands into claws and let his head loll to the side, tongue hanging out.

Shepard was forced to fake a coughing fit to cover her bark of laughter. The asari patted her back in concern. "Of course," Shepard wheezed. "From Zhu's Hope." She glanced up to see Joker, who was leaning casually against a counter and grinning widely, offer her a thumbs up.

xxxxxx

"You," Shepard said later, watching a grateful Shiala hurry away, "are terrible." She carefully poked Joker in the shoulder to emphasize her point. "Zombies, honestly. What is it with you and zombies? I remember that time in the mess…." She trailed off, narrowing her eyes in suspicion as Joker flushed. "Oh, I see. Laughing at my pain. You'd have been moaning, too, if Chakwas had forced that brandy on you."

"Ha! I could drink you under the table any day. In fact…." He held up a finger while his other hand dug in a pocket, emerging a moment later with a handful of credits. "I'll prove it."

Shepard collapsed into a booth, sliding a glass across the table as she steadied her own drink. It was amber-colored and strong, the smell alone nearly enough to knock her over. She'd spent a minute debating the wisdom of getting drunk with her pilot, but as Joker had cheerfully pointed out, 'We're probably all going to die soon anyway.' By the time she'd come up with a response to that, Joker had managed to find a bar.

Joker caught the glass, his hand surprisingly steady, and picked up in the middle of a story he'd been telling. "…and of course it was a perfect landing, but Alenko was all, 'If you scratch the _Normandy_ , you're paying for a new paint job,' like I'd ever-" Joker broke off, his eyes fixed on the table. "Uh, anyway. So that was that."

Shepard stared at him, puzzled, until her alcohol-soaked brain worked out why he suddenly looked uncomfortable. "It's okay to talk about Kaidan, you know. We weren't even together that long, really, and well…I'm over it." She smiled. "This pilot I know gave me a great pep talk."

Joker ducked his head, his expression embarrassed but pleased. He poked at his drink, fishing out a half-melted ice cube. "Yeah, well, not to worry. I'm sure the men will be beating down the door as soon as you save the world again."

He flicked the ice cube at her, and she swatted it away, laughing. "I don't think so. Most men – most _sane_ men – find all the armor and guns a little intimidating. Before Kaidan, I'm pretty sure the last time someone flirted with me, I was about twelve years old. This kid named Bobby, who used to tug on my pigtails and…oh."

_Oh_. She looked up to find Joker studying her with concern, water still dripping from his fingertips. Was it possible that all this time…and she'd missed it? But then what did that say about her, giving back as good as she got, intentionally provoking him? And stealing his hat, for Christ's sake, because if that wasn't right up there with pulling pigtails, she didn't know what was. She dropped her face into her hands.

"Shepard? Are you all right?" Joker sounded slightly alarmed. "Shit, you don't have alcohol poisoning or something, do you? Maybe we should get back to the ship and take you to see Dr. Chakwas."

Shepard shook off her contemplation and raised her head to meet Joker's eyes. He looked genuinely worried, but there was no way she could explain her thoughts. She started to wave off his suggestion, but…yes, Dr. Chakwas would know what was going on. She always seemed to know, somehow, and she could tell Shepard if she was just imagining things. "Good idea," she muttered.

The trip back to the _Normandy_ was spent in a haze, as Shepard mentally cataloged months worth of traded insults and cocky grins. Joker had been uncharacteristically quiet, a silent shadow studying her with thinly-veiled concern. When they arrived at the medbay doors, he hesitated, eyes fixed somewhere above her shoulder and his hat twisting in his hands. He had to have figured out by then that she wasn't drunk, and she wondered if he would call her on it. In the end, he simply shook his head and disappeared into the darkened ship.

"Doc," Shepard called as she barged into the medbay. Chakwas' head popped up from where she'd been dozing on her desk. "I need help."

"What is it, Shepard?" the doctor asked, instantly alert. "Are you injured?"

"No, no, nothing like that." She waved a hand vaguely, wondering what had happened to Chakwas' mind-reading abilities. Now she'd have to say it out loud. "I think…I've been flirting with Joker."


	12. Chapter 12

Joker leaned against the wall in the observation deck and watched as the _Normandy_ pulled away from Illium. He should have been sleeping - he'd been awake for days while Shepard tracked down the assassin, forcing himself to stay alert in case one of her inevitable catastrophes necessitated a sudden getaway. He knew soldiers who could fall asleep almost on command, taking their rest whenever and wherever they could get it, but he was a lifelong insomniac, and his thoughts were too cluttered. He hadn't spoken to Shepard since that night in the bar, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd allowed something important to slip away. He usually took comfort from the gentle vibrations of the ship, but even that did nothing to ease his mind.

He thought about Shepard, relaxed and laughing, leaning toward him with her elbows carelessly resting on a table sticky with spilled drink. He thought about the eyes that followed her as she made her way across a room, and the pride he'd felt at knowing she'd chosen to come there with him. Even if it meant nothing outside of his own mind, she'd treated him as a friend - an equal - and not the annoyance he knew he'd so often been. There had been no defensiveness, no uncomfortable silences. It had been, if he was honest with himself, the happiest he'd been since he'd found out she was alive.

Then…something had happened. He'd thought at first that the drinks had caught up with her, but he'd seen the steady grace with which she'd walked back to the ship. He'd seen the faraway look in her eyes, the frown that only deepened the longer she thought. Had it been something he'd said or done?

The door slid open, and hope surged in his chest as Shepard came to stand beside him. She was wearing a jacket he'd only seen her in once before, black and white, casual but vaguely military. Even if he hadn't known it wasn't Alliance-issue, the question was rendered moot by the gold and black Cerberus logo on the chest. His eyes flicked downward at the thought, widening in surprise when they focused on a misshapen patch where the emblem had been. He reached out and unthinkingly traced the jagged edges with one finger, jerking his hand away when Shepard sucked in a breath. Joker studied her face, but there was no censure there, no discomfort at his closeness. Why was she so impossible to figure out?

"I never really learned how to sew, but…it was my little rebellion."

Her voice was casual, unconcerned, but he saw the uncertainty on her face, and for once his brain was a step ahead of his mouth. He could've pointed out that it was a meaningless gesture, that they'd have nothing without Cerberus, that the Illusive Man had rebuilt the ship, rebuilt her body, and no amount of rebellion would change that. Would've gone ahead and said it, maybe, years ago when he didn't give a damn about hurting her. He could've said that he understood, that he knew Kaidan's words had cut deep and that she wanted desperately to prove that despite everything, Cerberus didn't own _her_. But that was a step too far in the other direction, too close to admitting how much he cared, how hard he tried to understand her.

In the end, he took refuge in humor. "Ah. Remind me not to let you near me if I ever need a medic."

She laughed, easy and genuine, and Joker did nothing to hide the ridiculous grin that spread across his face in response. Their camaraderie hadn't just been a fluke, then. But it was still tenuous, and he had no idea what to do to preserve it. Then Shepard started rocking back and forth on her heels, and if Joker hadn't known better he'd have thought she was nervous.

"I'm having a little trouble tracking down Samara," she said suddenly. He blinked, wondering where that had come from. "And it's been a long couple of days. I was thinking I could use a drink…and some company."

"Why, Shepard," Joker teased before he could stop himself, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "I…yes?"

_Well_. Joker stared at her, aware that he had to look like a gaping fish but unable to process what had just happened. It was, without a doubt, the most surprising thing he'd ever heard, sentient spaceships and undead commanders notwithstanding.

Shepard had clearly read his silence as hesitation, but she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before carrying on. "I know it's a little strange. I'm your commander, and you were always just this pain in my ass. Now, though…you're the only person who treats me like I'm normal. No one else gets in my face and pisses me off and tells me when I'm being an idiot and makes me laugh. But I'd understand if you-"

"Shepard." Joker held up a hand, thinking everything had turned upside down. Shepard was babbling, and he was at a loss for words. His brain was shouting _yes, yes, yes_ , but he might only get this one chance, and he wanted to do it right. And because it seemed like a night for non-sequiturs, he said, "I read this story once with a group of explorers who went on a mission into deep space. There were no relays, no FTL flight, and it was going to take them years to get there. The scientists decided to put them into stasis, so they'd only wake up when they arrived. They slept, all those years, while everything around them just kept on. Their ship traveled across the universe, and the people they'd known back home lived their lives and grew old, but for them it was like nothing had changed."

He stopped for a breath, wondering if he had it in him to go on. But Shepard was waiting. She had been honest enough – brave enough – to do it, and so would he. "I felt like that after you died. Like everything was changing and everyone was moving on, but I was stuck. Lost. I thought, right up until a couple months ago, that it was losing the _Normandy_ that did it. But…it was you. After everything we did, I couldn't just go back. I've always been a great pilot, but I'd never done anything that mattered until I met you."

Shepard was silent beside him, and Joker stared out at the sky, feeling foolish and exposed. _That's what you get for blathering on like a character in some cheap romance novel. Now she's going to leave, or mock you, and oh god, maybe Garrus will just shoot me if I ask politely?_

Unable to bear it any longer, he glanced up at her. Her eyes were wide and glittering, reflecting the stars that burned outside. It was beautiful and unbearable, and he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch her, pull her closer. If he only knew what she was _thinking_ -

She leaned toward him, and for one wild, breathless instant he thought she was going to kiss him. Then, for the second time in his life, he found himself being hugged by Commander Shepard. He thought he should've been disappointed, but she was so warm, gentle despite the strength he could feel in her arms, and this time there was no armor between them.

When she showed no signs of pulling away, Joker cautiously wrapped his arms around her, and she let out a long, shaky breath. He realized then how much it must have cost her to open herself up to him, how much this simple gesture really meant. She trusted him, and as they stood bathed in the glow of passing worlds, he swore that he would never let her down.


	13. Chapter 13

When the door chimed, Shepard flung the datapad onto her desk and climbed to her feet in relief. For once, she was happy to be interrupted. Imminent attack, catastrophic ship failure, another of Kelly's dreamy soliloquies about Thane's eyes - anything would be an improvement. Mordin had dropped by with the research he'd compiled on the Collectors, and she'd hoped to wade through some of it before stopping for dinner. Hours later, her head aching and stomach growling in protest, she was forced to admit defeat. The salarian seemed to have written for an audience of geneticists, and it was well over her head.

The door slid open to reveal Joker, balancing two trays and a bottle of wine, and Shepard blinked in surprise. Their conversation days before on the observation deck had culminated - as most of her peaceful moments tended to – with a call coming in and Shepard dashing off into disaster. She'd spent several days playing detective before finally managing to recruit Samara, and she hadn't made time to speak to Joker since. It seemed that neither of them knew how to bring the subject of their date up again.

"Gardner said you skipped dinner again," Joker said, seemingly unperturbed that she was staring at him instead of inviting him in. His brow was wrinkled in concern, his tone half scolding. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Some ridiculous part of Shepard melted a little. It was on the tip of her tongue to say something embarrassingly sentimental, but because it was Joker, and he'd been a terrible influence on her, she said, "Wow, next thing I know you'll be trying to get me to eat my peas and carrots."

Joker grinned. "Nah, I hate vegetables. Just don't want you fainting from hunger right in the middle of some firefight and ruining your badass reputation."

Shepard shook her head and snagged the wine from under his arm, setting it on the table as she said, "Wining and dining, eh? I never would've figured you for a traditionalist."

Joker passed her the trays and shrugged. "If it ain't broke. There should probably be dancing, too, but unless you want the evening to end with emergency surgery..."

Shepard laughed, opening the bottle as Joker sprawled unselfconsciously on the couch. _Just like that._ _We're really going to do this_."Right, what was it? Just don't ask you to dance, unless I like the sound of snapping shinbones?"

"Aw," Joker said, his smile alive with sincere delight. "You _do_ listen."

Shepard returned the smile, charmed and a little flustered. She'd only seen that look on his face a handful of times, usually after he'd coaxed some death-defying maneuver out of the _Normandy_. To have it directed at her – to be the cause of it – was disarming. He tilted his head back to look at her, and she realized she was still standing. _Smooth, Shepard_.

She joined him on the couch, her brain scrambling to pick up the thread of the conversation. His weight had caused the cushions to dip toward him, sliding her nearer than she'd intended. "Right, well, don't worry. The last time I danced was with that volus who ran Flux, and I'm pretty sure he made it look better than I did."

Joker shook his head, laughing, and then there was silence as they both turned to their meals. Shepard relaxed a bit, soothed by the familiar rhythm of eating and drinking. She noted with amusement that Joker actually segregated his vegetables, and she was about to tease him for it when he spoke.

"So what ever happened with Bobby?"

He twisted to look at her, slinging an arm across the back of the couch, and his thigh pressed against hers. He was everywhere, warm and surprisingly muscular, invading her senses. She could smell the wine on his breath, and underneath that was his soap, simple and clean. Up close, his beard looked soft, and there was no room in her mind for anything but the thought of what it would feel like against her skin. Shepard cursed herself, wondering when she'd turned into a hormonal teenager.

"Bobby?" she asked, poking at her food in an effort to cover her lapse.

"You know," Joker said, gesturing impatiently with his glass. "The kid from when you were 12. Was he your first great love? The one all others pale in comparison to?"

Shepard watched his throat work as he took a sip, then glanced away before her brain could shut down completely. How was he so calm that he could remember a conversation from days ago, and she was a nervous wreck? "I'm afraid not. No one told me the hair-pulling meant he liked me, and I sort of punched him."

Joker choked on his drink, his face red as he tried to swallow around his laughter. "You know, I'm really not even surprised. I'd say remind me not to piss you off, but I think it's a little late for that."

"Ha, I'd say it was a little late for that about 5 seconds after we met." Shepard hesitated. The question she wanted to ask would have been met with scorn in the past, and part of her still expected an explosion. "What about you? Has there been anyone, you know…special?"

"You don't have to worry about corrupting my virtue, if that's what you're asking. Women do love a man in uniform. I'm not saying it's _easy_ , but it's worth the - Are you blushing? You are! You're blushing!" Joker cackled and did a little victory dance in his seat.

"You are so lucky I need you to fly this ship," Shepard muttered, dropping her fork and hiding her burning face.

"I know," Joker said seriously. He pushed the trays away with a clatter and eased closer. He pried her hand away from her face, cradling it in his own as he considered her from the shadow of his cap. His hand was surprisingly soft, but the knuckles were large and crooked, a testament to all the broken fingers he had suffered in his life. "I told you before, I was nothing when I lost the _Normandy_ …when I thought I'd lost you."

He was so close, his face so earnest and hopeful. She wanted desperately to close the distance between them, give some resolution to this thing they'd been dancing around for months, but Shepard hesitated, suddenly aware of the fragile hand in hers. It was a reminder of the reality of the situation – if she forgot herself, she could hurt him badly. How would she know what to do? Would he be offended if she asked? Carefully, she reached up and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes for permission.

"Hey," he said softly. "You're not going to break me."

Shepard took a deep breath and shook off her nerves. This was Joker, after all - if he wasn't happy, he'd certainly be the first to let her know. "I know. I just keep waiting for some smartass pilot to interrupt us."

Joker let out a little bark of a laugh. Shepard shivered as his warm breath ghosted past her ear, and he grinned. "Not even if the world was ending," he promised, before he leaned in and covered that last inch between them.


	14. Chapter 14

Joker kissed like he flew. It was insistent, passionate, reckless and absolutely breathtaking. He tasted of the wine, like cherries and spice and something faintly earthy. Shepard wondered briefly where he'd gotten it, before the thought was chased away by the feel of his beard against her cheek. It was so unfamiliar, such a contrast to the softness of his lips, and she reveled in it until they were forced apart by lack of oxygen. She rested a hand on Joker's chest, reassuring him – or perhaps herself – that she wasn't going anywhere. There was an expanse of hard muscle under her fingers, and Shepard silently thanked Chakwas for whatever regimen she did with Joker. It was clearly worth it, and she intended to say so - as soon as she remembered how to speak.

Shepard had all but climbed into his lap, consciously keeping her weight off his legs. The realization that she could hold on to that much control dispelled most of her worry, and prompted the thought that the position held a certain amount of promise. Something in her expression must have given her away, because Joker suddenly grinned and tugged playfully on a lock of her hair. There was something so casual, so _easy_ , about the gesture, as though the years of tension and discomfiture had been leading to that point all along.

"Now that was interesting," he said. "I think the last time I saw that look on your face, you'd just figured out how to reassemble the Collector particle beam."

"Oh, God," Shepard groaned, trying to hide her face. The worst of it was, he was probably right. How sad was it that most of the joy in her life of late had been heralded by heavy weaponry?

"Ah, ah," Joker said, catching her wrist. "There's no way you're getting out of this one. I'm onto you, Shepard. If you're trying to hide, it must be something really good."

He looked inordinately pleased with himself, and Shepard wondered what his reaction would be if she told the truth. _As a matter of fact, I was just sitting here imagining having my way with you._ "I-"

"Shepard!" a voice boomed from the doorway. She jumped, not having heard the door open, and _that_ was a bit alarming. "I think I finally figured out – oh." Garrus froze midway across the room, a datapad dangling from his talons. His eyes widened as he took in her position. She started to scramble away, wondering if there wasn't some kind of limit to how much embarrassment a person could suffer in one night.

Joker's hand tightened on her wrist, and something painfully vulnerable flashed in his eyes, belying the stubborn set of his body. Did he think, even now, that she was ashamed to be seen with him? She slid her free hand through the thick hair at his nape, leaving it to rest on his neck in a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. She could feel him relax, his eyes closing briefly before he offered her a grateful smile.

"Hey Garrus," Sheppard said with forced nonchalance, as though she wasn't straddling her pilot. "What've you got?"

The turian studied them, his bright eyes unblinking as they flicked from her hand to Joker's face to the remains of their dinner. Shepard was reminded of the way he surveyed a battlefield, lightning-quick but missing nothing. "It's..." Garrus nodded once, as though he'd come to a decision. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." His teeth widened into something that was at once a smile and downright terrifying, as he fixed Joker with a piercing look. "Just remember...assault rifle," he growled, before turning and striding quickly from the room.

"I wonder what that was all about," Shepard mused. "And I can't believe I didn't hear him come in. Good thing it wasn't an assassin, or we'd be screwed."

"Yeah," Joker said, nodding. His voice was serious, but Shepard could see him trying not to smile. "Or zombies." He paused, considering. "Although, zombies do tend to do that whole shuffle-and-moan thing, so you probably would have noticed. And there's always the smell."

Shepard shook her head. "What did I ever do to deserve this? Zombies, I ask you," she muttered.

Joker's eyes had taken on a faraway look. "I think we'd actually be pretty well equipped to handle a zombie apocalypse. Between those Thorian thralls and the husks – and hey, don't think I didn't notice that flamethrower you smuggled on here. Although, incendiary grenades-"

"Joker?" Shepard interrupted.

"Hm?" he replied absently, his gaze still fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

She tugged gently on his hair, watching in amusement as his eyes refocused. "Shut up," she whispered, leaning forward to capture his lips once more.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

"Shepard." Garrus spoke without looking at her, tilting his head to peer around the edge of a shipping crate. A bullet pinged off the metal, and he withdrew, eyeing the deep furrow inches from where his head had just been.

Shepard made a questioning noise in reply, focused on the assault rifle clutched in one shaking hand. She'd been crouched there for going on three minutes, an eternity in battle. It was decent cover, but too long to stay in one place, and if those Eclipse bastards had any sense they'd be flanking her soon. It was infuriating, because she could reassemble the damned Vindicator in her sleep. She'd taken shrapnel in the arm earlier, and she realized too late that she'd forgotten extra medi-gel. It was a rookie mistake. Her hands were slick, wracked with fine tremors that she knew meant she'd lost too much blood.

"You want to tell me again why we're out here risking our asses for some Cerberus operative?"

"He's just a scientist, Garrus." There was a sudden, ominous silence in the warehouse. Shepard wondered what the odds were that the mercs had decided to give up and go home.

"A scientist who's working for Cerberus," Garrus persisted. "For all you know, he's about to set a bunch of rachni loose on the Citadel."

Shepard grunted in triumph as the thermal clip finally slammed home. "We don't know that." She wiped a hand on her leg, cursing as it passed ineffectively over the smooth armor. Maybe she'd suggest adding a towel to the standard field kit. "And anyway, you know what they say about people who live in glass houses."

Garrus stared at her, his eyes narrowed and head cocked slightly to the side. "Why would anyone want to live in a glass house?"

He looked so puzzled that Shepard had to stifle a laugh. She opened her mouth to reply, then froze as she caught a flash of yellow armor at the edge of her vision. Garrus jerked his head slightly and made a 'go on' motion with one talon. Shepard grinned in understanding. Unless they'd called for reinforcements, there were at most two mercs remaining. It wasn't much of a challenge to predict that one would try to draw them out while his buddy picked them off from a distance. Not a bad plan, maybe, if she and Garrus were two unseasoned thugs on Omega.

"It means," she said, trying to stretch her cramped legs with small, subtle movements, "that we're just as bad. Doing the Illusive Man's bidding. Worse, really, because I know everything he's done." It was hardly the moment, but Shepard couldn't contain the bitterness that spilled into her voice.

It was both better and worse around Garrus. He'd proven himself, stuck by her side over and over again when he could have fled back to the respectability of C-Sec. She trusted him to have her back in a fight and to listen to her thoughts without judgment. But for all that they could operate as a well-oiled machine, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. There was that empty space at his side, the one that had always belonged to Kaidan. They'd been her go-to team, the ones she'd wanted with her when she faced Saren. There was no one she trusted now to fill that spot, and it was all thanks to Cerberus.

"Shepard, you know I'd follow you into hell. If you think we need Cerberus to take down the Collectors, I'm not going to start questioning you – now!" Garrus' concerned tone broke off in a shout, and Shepard reacted without hesitation. Still crouched low, she wielded her rifle like a bat, putting all her remaining strength into the swing. It connected with a satisfying crack, and the merc staggered sideways and fell. A shot sang over her head, then she heard Garrus firing next to her, followed by a pained cry. She risked a glance over the crate just in time to see a sniper topple from the catwalk.

Shepard slid to the floor, her back against the crate and legs stretched in front of her. She'd dropped her weapon, and she should really go look for it, but all that blood on her hands was suddenly so fascinating...

"Ah, damn it, Shepard." Garrus was squatting next to her, tearing off his gloves and muttering something about stupid squishy humans. She laughed weakly, trailing off into a groan as he poked at her arm. "This armor needs to come off."

"Sorry, Garrus, y'know I'm not that kind of girl," she teased, even as she fumbled with the fastenings. It felt like she was moving underwater, everything too slow and heavy.

He snorted. "Ha, don't flatter yourself, Shepard. You couldn't handle my...reach." He paused, digging in his pack and making a satisfied noise as he emerged with medi-gel. "And did you tell Joker you weren't that kind of girl before or after you tried to suck his face off?"

Shepard's answering glare of indignation was ruined as they tugged her armor over her head. The shirt she wore underneath was soaked with blood, and she grimaced as Garrus peeled it away. "What are you, my dad? Threatening Joker with an assault rifle, really?"

"It's not my fault that he can't tell if I'm serious." The turian grinned, suddenly looking very predatory as all those razor-sharp teeth were revealed. "It's just too much fun. Besides, someone has to look out for you. I saw how you were after Kaidan, and -"

"Oh, God," Shepard interrupted. "We aren't going to talk about _feelings_ now, are we? Because as much as I appreciate the concerned big brother act, I'd really rather go shoot something and pretend this conversation never happened."

Garrus laughed and offered her a hand, hauling her to her feet. "Nah, you're all patched up now, anyway. Come on, we've got a scientist to save."


	16. Chapter 16

_The days after Virmire, with his mind stuck on a loop of doubt and regret. The stubborn fearlessness in Ashley's voice, and the anguish in Shepard's._

_The snap of his radius fracturing as he's heaved into the escape shuttle._

_The vice around his heart as Shepard floats into open space._

Joker limped away from the cockpit, the list of agonies playing like a mantra in his head. It was a kind of perverse comfort, to remind himself that things could always be worse. He was still alive, still ambulatory. Shepard's team was all off-ship, tying up loose ends before they passed through the relay. Shepard herself had gone off on a rescue mission with Garrus, and that at least was some comfort. Whatever happened, the Commander and the turian would protect each other with their lives. They could find another ship - another pilot - and carry on.

Three crewmen crouched behind the glowing panels of the CIC, wide-eyed and grim but with hands steady on their weapons. Joker was reminded of an old movie from Earth, the stalwart sheriff facing down a gang of killers in the middle of a dusty street, long after all the sensible townspeople had fled. He choked back a laugh. When had he ever done the sensible thing?

The crewmen spared him a glance as he passed, the shuffle-thump of his footsteps the only sound on a ship that had gone eerily silent. Then the elevator opened with a hiss, and a Collector tumbled out. Long seconds passed in a melange of gunfire and screaming as Joker struggled onward, then the unmistakeable thud of a body impacting the floor made him pause.

Lifeless blue eyes stared at him from a too-young face, one outstretched hand still clutching a pistol. Joker bent painfully and pried the weapon from the kid's fingers, feeling ghoulish. It was one thing to watch Shepard loot the bodies of mercs, but this -

"Joker, go!" one of the soldiers shouted. "We'll cover you!"

_Hadley_ , Joker thought. _His name is Hadley._ It seemed terribly important to remember that, all of a sudden. These men, men he'd teased and bullshitted with just that morning, were standing between him and certain death. Counting on him.

He lifted a shaking hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes and forced himself to keep moving. It was easy to be the cocky hero behind the controls of his ship, where the _Normandy_ seemed to respond to his every thought. Now, relying on his own fickle body and the direction of a bitchy AI, everything seemed so much more terrifying.

He reached the maintenance hatch and began to descend, ignoring the way his knees popped in protest. He'd been trained for this, knew how to push aside pain and fear, but his mind kept returning to Shepard. He thought about the way her hand had lingered on his shoulder as she'd said goodbye, with Garrus hovering impatiently near the airlock. He'd teasingly ordered her off his ship, and the smile that lit her eyes had turned her into something breathtaking.

Joker emerged from the tunnel at last, only to be brought up short by the sight of a Collector dragging a thrashing body into the elevator. A pale face turned to him, pleading eyes topped by messy red hair. Chambers. She reached for him, shrieking something he couldn't make out over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He swallowed the guilt and bile that burned in his chest, and hobbled on.

The next few minutes were like something from a nightmare. Lurking in a stairwell as Collectors lumbered past, their shadows dancing grotesquely against the wall. A far-away scream, shrill and agonized and cut off with abrupt finality. Fifteen of the longest seconds of his life, as he passed through the exposed corridor before bursting into Engineering with his heart in his throat.

"EDI," he whispered, leaning heavily against a console. If he had to do any more climbing, they were all screwed.

"Activate the drive, and I will open the airlocks as we accelerate," EDI instructed. "All hostiles will be killed."

"What?" Joker demanded. "What about the crew?" Was this the part where the AI revealed its evil plan, after all? Because he was going to be _pissed_.

"They are gone, Jeff." EDI sounded almost regretful. "The Collectors took them."

Took them? What the hell did that mean? Took them alive? Took them to experiment on? For food? And what if EDI wasn't telling the truth? But in the end, it was the only thing he could do. Even if he wasn't exhausted, he didn't have any brilliant ideas, and there was no way to communicate with Shepard.

EDI sealed the engine room and powered up the drive, and Joker was knocked over by the resultant shockwave. He landed on his back, feeling ridiculously like an upended turtle. He was dazed and breathless – and probably horribly bruised - but mercifully still intact. It was done. The press of a few buttons, and Joker was the only living soul on the _Normandy_.

He made his way through the ship in a haze, some internal auto-pilot guiding him to the conference room. Shepard – and she was coming back, she _was_ – would want to have a briefing. He hauled himself onto the table with his last shreds of strength, and he waited.

Time passed – hours, days, a lifetime – with nothing but the hum of the ship to occupy his thoughts. It should have been a comforting sound, proof that the _Normandy_ had survived, but in the absence of other life it was deafening. Then the door opened suddenly, and there was nothing _but_ sound. Miranda shouting, blaming him. Jacob unexpectedly coming to his defense. EDI, filling in the blanks when he lacked the energy to explain.

Amidst the arguing, the one voice he'd been waiting for spoke at last. "Hey, I heard you had a pretty rough ride. Are you all right?"

Shepard's tone was carefully neutral, reminiscent of what Joker privately thought of as her 'placate the moronic colonists' voice. It pissed him off, that suggestion that he needed to be coddled, and he found himself yelling.

"No, you know what? I'm not all right! What the hell were you doing, leaving us out here for the Collectors to work us over?" The room had gone still and silent. He risked a glance at Shepard, who looked like she'd been slapped. Some small, rational part of his brain shouted that he was ruining everything, but the pain and fear overcame reason.

"Maybe I should just go! Next port, just get the hell out of here, and-"

"You don't mean that, Jeff." Surprisingly, it was EDI who interrupted, and something in her cool, logical tone doused his anger.

"I..." What was he supposed to say now? S _orry about the near-mutiny there, guys. I'm just such a damn coward._ "No."

He lapsed into silence, dropping his face into his hands to hide eyes that suddenly stung with tears.

"Miranda, Jacob," Shepard said. "You're dismissed."

Joker could feel their stares as they filed out, burning him with accusation. He was too tired to care.

"Joker, look at me," Shepard said. Her voice wasn't the no-nonsense bark she'd used to order the others out of the room, but something softer. The woman, not the Commander.

He dropped his hands but refused to meet her eyes, his anger giving way to embarrassment and shame. She approached him slowly, hands raised to show her empty palms, as though he were a skittish animal. Maybe that wasn't so far off. Only when she eased it from his white-knuckled grip did he realize that he was still clutching the dead crewman's pistol.

"Joker." She rested one cautious hand on his thigh. It was small, but strong and capable. Steadying, like the rest of her. "Jeff. You did everything you could. You saved the _Normandy_. And we're going to get the crew back, you know that. You know _me_. Now tell me what's really wrong. Why are you so angry?"

_Because I was afraid you wouldn't come back. Because I was afraid you'd come back too soon. Because I couldn't save any of them, and all I could think about was you._ It was at once too much and not enough. Too honest, too exposed, but nowhere near the truth of what she meant to him. How could he say the words? He was too cowardly to even look at her.

"Lieutenant!" Shepard slammed her free hand onto the table to punctuate the word, and he jumped. "Answer me!"

Joker's head snapped up at the command. Shepard's dark hair was wild, her armor mottled with blood and soot. He met her eyes at last and saw concern, and a trace of guilt. For what? Pulling rank, ordering him when she knew he couldn't refuse? Not being able to save the crew? Well, he had the market cornered on that last one.

"That gun," he said quietly. "It was... Crewman Goldstein." His voice was harsh and cracked, and he knew he wasn't making any sense. It shouldn't have been so hard – he'd been a goddamned soldier, even if he was just a pilot. But he'd failed so spectacularly.

Shepard nodded encouragingly, like he wasn't being a babbling idiot, and he took a deep breath and carried on.

"He died, right by my feet. Holding off a Collector so I could get by. He talked too damn much, all the time. And he worshipped you, you know. Always bugging me with questions about what it was like saving the Citadel with the famous Commander Shepard." He let out a ragged laugh. "It's not like we haven't lost people before, but...this was because of me. I keep thinking, if I wasn't so slow, if I was more use in a fight, he wouldn't have had to die. And Hadley, I heard him screaming on my way out the door, and I just kept going."

"Joker," Shepard said softly. "This wasn't your fault."

He shook his head. He had to get it all out now, or he'd never be able. "I kept thinking...if you were there, you might've been able to save them. You'd have known what to do. But I was so glad you weren't." _And_ w _hat kind of selfish asshole does that make me?_

"Joker," Shepard repeated. "Do you trust me?" She took a step back and held a hand out to him, waiting.

So much meaning, in that one gesture. Absolution, from the only person who mattered. Understanding, because they were both only human. Physical support, from the woman who already knew all his weaknesses.

"Yes," he said, taking her extended hand. "I do."

She helped him down from the table, patient as he steadied himself on his feet. "Come on, then," she said. "Let's go save our crew."


End file.
